The Object, Suspect
by wakingsparrow
Summary: Reid is placed in more than just emotional danger as the stable pillars of his world topple over in the wake of Gideon's death. Someone's taken a very involved interest in his life and if the BAU doesn't catch them soon, he may have that life taken from him piece by piece.
1. Introduction

"When you said you needed help with lifting, I'd kinda hoped you'd meant bench pressing, kid." Derek Morgan wheezed and jostled a large black metal box into a more sure grip before daring another stair up.

"Hey, hey, careful! That's a collector's item. " Spencer Reid braced his elbows on the railing of his apartment complex above to watch the slow moving procession of his friend below. "Are you sure you don't want me to help? Weight distribution of a mass between four points versus just your two is calculated to increase the sway control of the load by -"

"_NO, Reid._" Morgan huffed. Sweat dripped off a pounding vein in his forehead and narrowly missed his eye. " I don't need your gangly limbs gettin' tied up into this mess-" he took a strained breath and stepped, " -knocking my ass back the three flights I just climbed."

It hadn't been so bad to the first landing. With a breeze to his back from the propped open entrance door and fresh arms, he didn't think it would be a problem at all. However, this August was especially hot and the drought that had settled over Quantico was sucking the water out of everything, human alike. The state had even issued a ban on campfires, just in case one got out of control.

"What the hell is this thing anyway?" He edged up another stair and braced against the wall with his shoulder. His cheek pressed against the warm steel of the box, slick with sweat. If he got a hernia from this, so help him God. "Is this lined with lead?"

"Not lined, but I suppose there might be some lead components, especially since it's dated from the late eighteen hundreds. It's actually a polysine generator, which emits a high voltage, but low current shock used in early and rather unsuccessful electroconvulsive therapy treatments mostly aimed at depression. I doubt it's even functional, given its age."

The younger man thrummed his fingertips on the wooden banister looking cool as a cucumber, and Morgan was suddenly half temped to fling the contraption back down and make the doctor carry it up the last flight himself.

"And you have this why, exactly?" He drawled.

"I won it at the police auction today for only $200. They seized it about a month ago, so it's nothing short of a wonder I got to it first."

"Wow." Morgan deadpanned, hoisting up the last step.

"I know!" Reid chirped, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Not what I'm wowing at, kid." With one last tight heave of effort, he settled it down on the top landing with a weighty metallic thud. "I can think of $200 worth of cold ones that sound like a better deal right now."

The doctor fumbled with his keys at his door and sighed. "I know, I know. I promised drinks. But really, thanks again Morgan. There's no way I'd have gotten it up here myself."

Morgan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and fanned his t-shirt from his damp abs. "You never explained why you _have this thing_, though."

Reid paused momentarily mid-turn of his door handle before opening up into the sun-bathed apartment. Morgan tugged the bulky contraption in in tow. Dust flitted from tall book cases, catching dreamily in the bright afternoon, and was seemingly disturbed only by Morgan's still-labored breaths. Spencer turned partway towards the light and pulled his signature half-smile, a pained glint in his eyes for the brief seconds he could bare to hold eye contact with Derek.

"It's something Gideon told me a long time ago." He said quietly, thumbing the set of keys that were still in his hand. He gazed blankly down and Morgan waited, now much more serious. "He said 'true courage is not determined by acting fearless, but by facing the fears we choose to admit we have'."

Morgan frowned, cocking his head questioningly while Reid tucked his keys in his pocket and eyed the machine, resigned.

"Polysine generators were also used to treat schizophrenia. I've been afraid of machines like this since the day I understood what they were..." His voice was gentle. He crouched down and poked at one of the knobs on the top and traced a few letters etched below to avoid looking at Morgan.

"Reid..."

"No - I know -" He stammered, "I'm taking it a bit literal, but after everything that's happened lately, I couldn't help but to look back at the advice that he gave me and not care that I hadn't taken it. It's just a machine. It's such an irrational phobia to have. I shouldn't let these kind of things control me anymore...life's too short."

Reid blinked away the moisture in his reddening eyes, and the older agent decided to pin blame on the dry summer air. Placing a hand over the young man's shoulder, he smiled sadly.

"You're right, yah know. I couldn't have said it better myself. Though it's not about when we take advice, it's that we do." He squeezed his hand just slightly. "And you happen to be one of the most courageous people I know." His smile broadened as Spencer looked up at him in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Spence. Really." Morgan threw an arm around Reid as he stood up, pulling him into a half hug. "Now how 'bout those drinks, Pretty Boy?"

Reid let out a short, relieved laugh while closing the door behind them, leaving the machine to settle with the sunlit dust.

"Let's take the elevator down."

"_WHAT?! _"

"Just kidding, Morgan. Seriously, I promise there isn't one. Ouch! Seriously!"

.

* * *

Author note: This started off as a one shot from a really creepy dream I had. I'm going to work this as the whole plot I originally envisioned in a multi-chapter story. Please let me know what you think!


	2. I'll Be Seeing You

Notes:

I recommend everyone listen to Billie Holiday's 'I'll Be Seeing You' for this chapter as it's vital!

I also want to clarify right now there will essentially be NO OC's in this story. Any that are included will probably not be fully fleshed out characters and will not play large rolls in the story.

So there's that.

* * *

.

Something, somewhere very close, was making the most horrible noise Dr. Reid had ever heard. He moaned and tried to pull his covers over his ears, which only succeeded in knocking the source of the banshee's wail off the bed to clatter on the wooden floor. He tried to crack his eyes open, but even in the dim morning light, a fissure of white hot pain promptly seared into his sockets. Reid shivered, recalling a time of migraines and MRI's and _Maeve,_ and his heart plunged and twisted painfully at the unanticipated flashback. Scooting as carefully as possible halfway off the bed, he blindly felt on the floor for the most god-awful thing known to man.

"_Reid. What_?" He answered tersely upon finally locating his phone, unsure if he was shouting or even audible. Morgan's deep chuckle echoed on the other end, and in that moment Reid re-evaluated his opinion. Morgan. Morgan was the most god-awful thing known to man. "What did you do to me?" Spencer squeaked pitifully.

"That good of a night, eh lover boy? What happened with Angela after you two left?"

"_What?_ Angela who?" Reid pressed a palm to his forehead, attempting to clear the whiskey flavored fog from his head enough to recall the prior night. Bar. Drinks. _Lots of drinks._ Morgan flirting with women. Morgan introducing women's friends to him. Morgan poking him in the ribs and mouthing _'She's cute,_man'.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he summoned up an image of the a petite blonde playfully touching his arm while he ordered another round for the table. He clutched his hand in his hair till the tingling sensation distracted him from his hangover.

"Ouch, I hope she's not still over there with you. That could be awkward." Reid's currently reviled co-worker teased.

"Over here? You mean she came back with..." Reid's eyes suddenly popped open in a surge of dread and adrenaline and he clumsily bolted out of bed, sheets catching around his ankles and nearly tripping him. Bed - other side not slept in, he noted with a wave of relief. He peered around the doorway at the couch, which was still covered in a week's worth of books. Morgan's breathy laugh sounded on the line again.

"She's _not_ and Morgan, I am going to kill you." Reid moaned an rested his forehead against the door frame in an effort to stop the room from spinning. He vaguely remembered a cab ride home and unlocking his door and- "_Oh no,_ I am absolutely going to kill you, Morgan."

"Hey man, even super geniuses need to get laid sometime."

"Ugh no, not that." He sputtered indignantly."We listened to old blues albums. We _talked_ all night. About _serious_ things. I probably sounded like the wimpiest psychology patient ever -don't laugh. This is terrible. I can't remember most of the night which means from past experiences, there's is a ninety six percent chance I said something extremely personal and embarrassing to a _total stranger_." Spencer wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole into a dark, quiet, regret-free abyss. This was a keen reminder as to why he rarely drank.

"Did she leave her number?"

"What?"

"On your phone, check it."

Reid drowsily navigated to his contacts and there in fact, right at the top, was Angela. He hummed in surprise.

"See? Pretty sure she wouldn't have put that in if she didn't want to." Morgan cleared his throat, sobering his tone. "I hate to do this to you, man, but that's not actually why I called. We got a case. Everybody's gotta come in..."

Reid signed and thumped his head against the door frame in frustration. Showing up to work with a hangover was going to be fun to hide. "Be there in approximately-" Reid's stomach churned and he slammed his eyes shut. "Be there in a few."

* * *

"Garcia, what have we got?" Hotch sifted through a manila folder and took a seat at the round conference table as the technical analyst booted up the presentation screen.

"Not so good stuff, I'm afraid. Like icky horrifying not good, my friends." She tapped on her laser pointer and looked firmly _away_ from the screen as a blood soaked crime scene was revealed. "White male, early thirties, average height and weight. Found this morning when the barista went to open Common Grounds Cafe just a short fifty minute drive from here in Westphalia."

"So close? That's just outside of D.C. Either the unsub doesn't care that this will attract the attention of the Bureau or that's the point." Morgan leaned back in his chair and studied the photo of the body grimly.

Hotch nodded. "We'll add that as a possibility for the profile, taunting local police and in proxy the federal government may be his approach to terrorizing the community. Garcia, where are we on the victim?"

"John Doe right now, prints are being run through the system as we speak and as for the cause of death - well, here. Look..." Three more images jumped up on the screen. The body was posed upright, sitting in one of the coffee shop's chairs, leaning over a table. Closer detailed shots showed long gaping cuts down the length of the arms and across the neck.

"This isn't a rage killing and he appears to be very organized. Nothing about this seems frenzied or accidental, especially the way the body is posed." Hotch supplied.

"Yeah, that's strange." JJ stood and paced past the screen, pointing out a wide shot of the of the crime scene. "He would have needed to prop the body up and wait for rigor mortis is set in for achieve this kind of pose. Even with the large windows in the front of the building he clearly wasn't concerned about being caught."

"Propped up, or even held up." Rossi scanned his copy of the report. "This pose is indicative of ritual."

Reid looked blearily over his coffee cup, head pounding. He took a gulp of the hot liquid and felt it burn down to his stomach in hopes of it boiling out any remaining alcohol. "This is a spectacle. He _wants_ us to see the detail and effort he put into the killing."

He motioned half-heartedly to the bottom photo, showing knife wounds on the victim's forearm. "These were done post-mortem, so the focus isn't about the torture aspect in the gratification he's seeking. It appears as though the muscle and flesh have been pulled away from the bone to open up these cuts, almost like he's trying to disclose something about his selected target. Additionally -" He paused and massaged his temple, catching an inquisitive look from Hotchner. So much for pretending he wasn't having the worst booze hangover of his life. "From the pooling of the blood it doesn't look like the body was moved either, so that means he must have transported his prisoner, broken in and spent at least a few hours last night doing this."

JJ flicked her hair over her shoulder . "So he's physically capable. Any possibly of as second unsub?"

The doctor shook his head and promptly winced as his vision swam from the movement. He could feel Aaron's eyes drilling a hole into his throbbing skull. "It's unlikely, with the amount of care and effort he put into the body, he'd be too proud to share the credit. Eighty seven percent of cases with this type of detail oriented handiwork are done by only one individual. This indicates he's at least a low level narcissist. The John Doe looks very physically fit so it's a possibility part of his victimology is physically determined."

Garcia took a deep breath and opened a close up of the victim's face. "Funny you should mention that Dr. Omnipotent, because I read once on one of those 'interpret you dreams' sites that dreaming about losing your teeth is a sign that you are worried about losing your looks, and as you can see..." She zoomed in on the mouth and pressed her lips together defensively.

"All his teeth are missing?" Rossi chipped in. "It's not a counter measure against dental records as he clearly wasn't concerned about trying to mutilate the hands and fingers to hide the identity. Going on what Garcia said, we might be dealing with an older man unable to face the reality of aging. Someone deluded into thinking murdering people like sacrifices might slow his own death."

"So he's taking it out on younger and possibly more successful men as surrogates for himself. Makes sense if he's a narcissist." Morgan shrugged.

"Oh oh!" Garcia exclaimed as her tablet beeped a whimsical 8-bit tone. "This just in, the Barista said that she noticed something else was off about the cafe once the police and her manger came to clear the safe. The ipod they usually use to play music in the store was replaced with a completely different one that had only one track on it. They just sent it over to us. I can play it riiiiight...now." Her fingers flew across the keyboard as the track started playing.

~"No, p-please"~ Choked out a voice, followed by a sudden scream and wet noises. The track went silent for a moment till a soft piano intro, clearly an old recording, could be heard. There were low voices that seemed distant, but they were hard to make out. Horns joined the piano and the voices were muffled.

Hotch frowned. "Garcia, any way we can up those-"

"On it!"

A smoky female voice came on as a thud and screeching of chair on floor could be heard.

_~"I'll be seeing you...In all the old familiar places..."~_

"That bastard recorded the murder." Rossi muttered hotly.

A soft sound, fleshing being cut, could be heard close to the microphone. The unsub began humming the tune of the song off key.

Garcia tapped down on the enter key with determination and the background voices became much clearer.

~"That must have been terrible."~ A woman's voice consoled.

_~"That this heart of mine embraces_ _...All day and through."~_

Reid felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "This is Billie Holiday's cover of Tamara Drasin's 1938 'I'll Be Seeing You'."

He shuttered, hangover now completely forgotten. "I think I listened to it last night."

_~"I'm sure you did everything you could."~ The woman spoke again._

Hotchner turned towards him, confused. "You think you did?"

Morgan visibly swallowed, the connection from their early morning conversation dawning on him.

_~"In that small cafe...The park across the way..."~_

The voices in the background could be well heard now and Reid felt an ocean of ice water wash over his body, paralyzing him in terror.

~"If I just would have tried to reach him again..."~ A man - no not _a_ man, _Reid,_ could be heard speaking, voice thick with emotion.

_~"The children's carousel..."~_

All eyes were on him now, wide and stunned.

~"Jason-he'd - he...s'my fault, he might still be alive..."~ Reid heard his intoxicated recording slur.

JJ's hand was frozen part way up to her mouth as if to cover it. "Spence is that _you_? _How can that be you in the recording_?" Her voice trembled only slightly.

_~"The chestnut trees, the wishing well..."~_

The unsub could be heard breathing loudly in the foreground, the labor of his work evident.

"I - I..." Reid felt suddenly very ill. "I don't know."

_~"I'll be seeing you..."~_

_._

* * *

Notes:

*Dramatic Criminal Minds going to commercial music*

Thanks for reading! I'll post another chapter when I have some time to work on it.

If you see any mistakes, please let me know as I don't have a beta.

Aaand let me know what you think!


	3. Eidetic

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"You have an eidetic memory, Reid, now focus and remember." Hotch paced in front of the seated doctor in the small kitchenette of the BAU, sweeping his suit jacket back as he placed his hands on his hips.

"I _am_ focusing." Reid's leg bounced anxiously and he rubbed his eyes with frustration. He could only recall scraps of memories and it felt like they'd been at this for an hour. "We all left the bar at 12:23...or uhh...12:32?"

"Morgan said it was more like midnight. Is it possible you are mistaken?"

"Y-yes, maybe I'm remembering the time when I - we got back to my apartment. It's all a blur."

"These are important details, _try_. Can you remember anyone lurking around when you got out of the cab? Anything out of place when you came in?"

"Isn't it more imperative to _check_ my apartment first? This means someone had been either just outside my door last night or inside it prior. If anyone is going to notice something out of place it's going to me." Reid felt a bolt of pain scorch through his head and tried not to flinch under Hotch's scrutinizing gaze.

"We've already dispatched a team to sweep for bugs, but if you're a potential target or play a roll in his method of operation, you're not going anywhere till we know the building is clear. We need a timeline of last night's events leading up to the murder." The unit chief opened his briefcase on the counter and produced a bottle of over the counter pain reliever in front of Spencer. "Take it."

"I'm fi-"

"_Take it_. It's non-narcotic. It's clear you need it."

Reid swallowed two pills dry to appease his superior, thin nervous fingers fumbling with closing the lid. S.S.A. Hotchner was the last person Reid wanted to detail his drunken account of last night to. It was bad enough he had let his self control slip to getting drunk, and entirely another set of nightmares to have a man who usually respected his actions analyze his mistakes.

He looked through the interior window across the bullpen to the conference room, where his team mates where likely dissecting the recording second for second. He could feel heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't remember saying any of those things, as they weren't even things he'd vocalized to himself.

Aaron (_of course noticing,_ Reid berated himself) drew the curtain cutting off his view. "Focus." His voice softened and though he meant well, it effectively made Reid feel like a child being reprimanded for making a mess. "Don't think about them right now, Reid. What's the first thing you remember when you entered you apartment?"

The doctor propped his elbow on the table and cradled his forehead in his hand, staring down at the fake wood grain of the surface. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself flipping on the light by the door.

"Embarrassment. I'd been doing some furniture rearranging earlier and I had to clear her a spot to sit."

"Was anything out of place?"

"No, I don't think so." He scrunched up his eyebrows. "It's hard to tell."

"Okay, what else?"

.

_"This is some fancy bourbon, is'int? Angela sloshed the deep gold liquid into two glasses, licking some off her hand. "Gift from the president for saving the country, Doc-tor Reid?"_

_Reid let out a silly laugh at the thought. "A gift from an old friend- who uh, who is not the president." He felt the need to clarify. "And actually it's single malt scotch, aged in oak casks for roughly 16 years. The process is actually quite fas-"_

_The blonde nudged a finger at Reid's lips to cut off his tangent. "You can tell me all about it if you still feel like it...after a few more of these." She grinned, pushing the glass into his hand, letting her finger trail down to his shirt collar. "Doesn't the F.B.I. ever let you out of these stuffy suits?"_

_She fluttered her eyelashes and Reid could feel his heart slam in his chest, suddenly very uncomfortable. This wasn't what he wanted at all._

_He sipped his beverage and coughed. "How about some music, I have a substantial collection of records. Some mint condition first editions..." He slid off the couch and thumbed through an alphabetical stack. "Blues okay?"_

_"Sure."_

_The way her eyes raked over his body, he could tell she didn't actually care. He put on Billie Holiday, drained his glass, and tapped the beat to the music on his thigh awkwardly._

_._

"Reid? Tell me what you're seeing." Hotchner brought him back to the present.

"Uh," He cleared his surprisingly tight throat. "We made drinks and she came on to me, but she could tell it wasn't really , uh, I wasn't really..."

"Okay, alright." Hotch mercifully spared Reid from having to divulge further.

"I told her it was in part from...recent events with - with...Gideon. That's about when the song came on. It must have been around 1AM given the duration of that side of the vinyl."

.

_That must have been terrible." She look genuinely concerned and Reid relaxed a little, swallowing a gulp from his second glass of scotch_. "_I'm sure you did everything you could."_

_"If I just would have tried to reach him again...Jason-he'd - he...s'my fault, he might still be alive..."_

_._

Reid blinked rapidly, thankful that he was still looking down and shielded from Hotch's direct view.

"What about when she left?"

"I walked her out to the cab to pay for it." He worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "I think the street was empty. I can't remember anyone else around at all." He finally spared a glance at Aaron, who was deep in thought. "I know that's not significant help."

Hotchner shook his head as though to clear his mind. "It's something to work with...let's get back and see what the others have turned up."

Reid stood and started for the door, but Hotch placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him back around.

"It's not true, you know."

Reid frowned, but before he could respond the elder agent continued.

"What you said about Jason. He was a very private man and was as stubborn and driven as they come. There is nothing you could have done to stop it, even if you had kept in touch with him." Hotch's dark eyes searched his face with an open and honest expression.

Reid, however, felt cold for the second time today, even given the poor A/C of the building. He looked down at his hands and picked at a stray thread on his cardigan sleeve.

"Then I'm not really sure why I'm here."

"Reid..."

Before he could turn back towards the bullpen to make his escape, Morgan's built frame was blocking it, urgency scribed over his features. He held his phone just away from his face, ringing clicking over to a muffled voicemail. "Angela Meyers, the girl from last night, didn't show up to her shift today and she's not answering her cell phone."

As Morgan hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket, Reid's began ringing.

His eyes widened. "Morgan get Garcia, we need to see if she can trace this...it says it's from Angela."

After a thumbs up from Morgan dashing back out of the tech cave, he answered.

"Angela?" He tried, internally praying it was all an oversight.

A man's voice, low and gravelly, spoke instead and crushed any doubt.

"Are you going to be a _hero, Spencer_?" He sneered.

"That depends, explain to me what you mean." Reid stalled, but the unsub ignored him.

"'I'll be seeing you..."

Click.

.

* * *

Notes:

Man, Hotch was kind of being a dick there for a minute, Let's see if that gets resolved later.

I write this with a 'if you build it they will come' mentality, so as always, _please_ let me know what you think! Your feed back is super helpful.


	4. Gateway to Hell

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* * *

.

"We've put an APB out for Angela Schaller. Her manager reported her missing just past nine when she didn't show up for her shift at El Kamara Restaurant. Apparently she's only been late one other time in her two years of working there." JJ gripped the handle above the SUV's door as Hotch rounded a corner towards Reid's apartment. "Her roommate said if she came home last night she was gone by the morning."

Morgan's voice blared out with a tinny echo from the radio in the vehicle. "Garcia's doing a background check on her now. Cab company says they don't have a record of the pickup, but they don't exactly keep the best records, so we'll see when we interview their drivers from last night. She'll let us know when she has more details." Static flared up between his words, and the group could only make out some of the rest. "-ecking out her place n-" He faded out as they went through a short tunnel beneath an overpass, but the message was clear enough.

Rossi peered back from the passenger seat, his glance lingering purposefully on Spencer. "Bomb squad cleared your apartment. It's the last place she was seen so let's see if anything seems out of place."

Reid's fingers squeezed around his seat belt strap. He swallowed hard at the update and his still lingering nausea. His memory from the night before was still extremely vague, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make out the details. Usually the only time he drank was in moderation when he was with the team, and that was most always in remembrance of their losses, not triumphs. He dug his fingernails into his hands till it hurt.

He didn't dwell on the times he had truly been drunk in the last few years. Those were times he's been alone and emotion had been burning him up from the inside like a kiln aflame so badly he'd wanted something stronger. He'd been lucky then that he'd kept himself in check. Most of all, he'd been lucky what seemed like ages ago when he'd scared off his drug dealer the second to last time of many he'd tried to get sober, to the point the slimy alley dweller wouldn't even answer his calls anymore. While it wasn't the last time he was on the drug, it tipped the scales in that direction. He'd ached and shivered and vomited from withdrawal and then drank a lot of a bottle of gin someone had gifted him as a joke at a holiday party just so he could pass out numbly. The note on the wrapping had read 'if you drink this, you'll be a _gin_ius'. He'd laughed at the time, half delirious with want for dilaudid

Reid's palms felt damp. He unclenched them realizing he was starting to bleed.

All this had to be something related to him going out. It seemed like far too much a coincidence for this to be taking place the one night he broke his routine from what most could consider downright celibacy of everything fun. His headache hammered away dully as he pressed for more details of the night. Had someone been acting suspicious at the bar? Usually he would notice, but he had been out with Derek and as a rule when he was with Derek his friend's 'fuck-it-all' demeanor rubbed off on him. Surveying a crowded bar for eminent danger wasn't something he did when he felt safe, though now he knew better.

He could have just given Morgan money for helping him move the polysine generator. He could have stayed home and flipped through Machiavelli for the thirtieth time and taken a long hot bath listening to Bach or Salieri. And there would have been _no way any of this would be happening now_. Reid huffed out a hard breath through his nose as he watched the passing buildings fly by under the bright sun. That was all just supposition now, it _was happening_ and his head throbbed too badly to stretch far enough around this to find out why. He felt useless. Someone was in danger and it was likely because of him.

.

* * *

.

Finally they pulled up in front of his apartment building. Reid was relieved to be out of the rolling and confined space, but soon grimaced at the thought of having half his team inspect his home. He tended to be more unkempt that most of his partners in the way that he lived, though the order of the books, files, and documents seemingly strewn about his living room made perfect sense to him.

He could handle Morgan coming in to help him carry that machine up, they hadn't stayed long. Morgan was a clean freak, but he knew Spencer well, so the mess didn't surprise him in the slightest. Apparently he could even handle a complete stranger coming in to stay a while, though in his defense he'd hadn't even remembered agreeing to it. He couldn't care less about the bomb squad. However, the idea of JJ, Rossi, and Hotch profiling his home like a crime scene nearly had Reid breaking out into cold sweats and his head swam with vertigo as he worked his way up the second flight of steps.

The officer posted outside his door nodded and handed Agent Hotchner a file as they stepped through the threshold.

All in all, it looked like what he recalled from last night and what little he bothered to notice this morning as he had stumbled out.

"Okay." Rossi started, taking in a breath as he surveyed the badland-esque landscape of books. "What's different?"

Reid paced forward towards the windows. The record player's cover was open, but the Billie Holiday vinyl had been put back, likely by his own doing given it's placement by the correct date and genre. He pulled out the album and examined it, but nothing seemed amiss. The Scotch bottle was still on the coffee table balanced haphazardly on a book about nanotechnology as he had remembered from last night. He visually rooted through the rest of the apartment, but aside from his disheveled bed, everything seemed the same.

"Nothing. " Reid ground out in frustration, raking a hand through his hair. "Nothing is different from yesterday."

The rest of the group fell silent till Rossi rounded away from gazing out the window abruptly.

"Is there anything different from your apartment since the day _before_ yesterday?"

.

Reid's skin suddenly crawled and he turned slowly towards the newly placed black metal box in the corner of the room, knobs glinting in the light.

Yes.

Yes, in fact, there was something different.

.

* * *

Author notes:

For anyone feeling a little salty towards Morgan for letting his boy get plastered and leave with a stranger, don't worry, I suspect he might not get off so easy. We'll see...

_Please let me know what you thinkkkk._

I am going to be murderously busy for a while and need encouragement like Garcia needs cute fuzzy bright things!


	5. Memoire

_._

_"And that is why we can conclude"-Gideon paced in front of the auditorium, flipping the slide to an image of a greasy looking white male, beady eyes staring back at the audience-"That the unsub lacked the social abilities to blend in in public. He would have been awkward, possibly had a motor tic that people noticed immediately upon seeing him, and had no more than two -albeit poor- relationships with other people."_

_A soft rap on the door drew the classroom's attention and Spence Reid shuffled in with a large stack of files bearing the crest of the FBI up to his chin._

_"Sorry sir," Reid said in a hushed tone, clearing his throat nervously under the weight of all the eyes in the room. "The unit chief wanted me to give these to you immed-" he staggered on the steps up to the podium and several of the files on top spilled off, sending papers whooshing out over the floor like seeds off a dandelion. A wave of snickering rolled through the class, but their teacher shot them a severe look, steadied the younger man with a hand and eased the files onto the table._

_Reid scrambled clumsily to scoop up the renegade reports and was close enough to hear a boy just about his age mutter to a friend, "Looks like we found our unsub." Several people around him laughed unkindly, "that guy has serial written all over him." Spencer lit up as red as a road flare._

_"Mr. Prescott." Gideon directed the attention of the students back to him, and had his finger pointing firmly to the door. "_Out. _Get out. You're done for the day. I expect a ten page report on the dangers of jumping to conclusions in a profile by Thursday."_

_The boy made a balking noise of disbelief and slammed his textbook in to his backpack. He pinned Spencer with a seething glare and veered just enough on his way out to leave a shoeprint on one of the pages._

_The doctor finally managed to retrieve everything, ducking his head down as he attempted to shuffle them all into one direction, "I - I'll just come back when I have these in - uh - the right order. Sorry."_

_Gideon gave him a reassuring half smile, "Thank you, _Dr._ Reid. We'll be done in just a little bit."_

_He rushed into the hallway chased by a softer murmur of laughter, his heart pounding in his ears as he made his way back to the office. Of _course_ he would manage to make a idiot of himself in front an entire classroom. Gideon having to stand up for him only made him feel worse, like he was a twelve year old back in high school. He knew it was only in the older man's nature to defend him, and while it filled a long suppressed part of Reid that was so direly aching for attention, it made his gut twist in humiliation at the same time._

_He was so caught up in his thoughts, eyes cast down at his ungainly feet, he didn't even see the hand that swatted up in front of him. The motion sent the files fluttering all over the hallway again, raining down around the boy who had been kicked out of class._

_"That's for the ten page report, freak," he gave Spencer a toothy smirk. "Have a nice day."_

_Reid was left frozen in surprise. The gears of his mind where whirling with a myriad of clever retorts and threats of expulsion, but his body only started catching up to his brain after the bully was long gone. This was why Gideon felt obligated to defend him - Reid thought to himself bitterly - because he clearly was incapable of doing it himself._

_He sighed heavily and stooped to the floor again to shuffle up the papers. Yes, just like high school. At least there wasn't an audience this time._

_._

* * *

.

Spencer huffed in annoyance as he slowly twisted the last screw on the generator's front panel. "One hundred eighteen years later and it's still as tight as it was brand new..."

He jammed the poor excuse for a screw driver on his pocket knife back into the slot of the screw, which budged ever so slightly looser. From the floor the device in front of him seemed somehow even more ominous than it had when he was standing. While it was improbable that it had something to do with the case, it certainly wasn't _impossible_. Especially given the timing of everything, it was the only thing that made sense. If this was how the unsub had gotten the recording from last night, hopefully the device had run out of battery. Hopefully, it also meant drawing a connection from himself to the unknown subject. They needed answers and they needed them fast if they were going to find Angela alive.

_"Are you going to be a hero, Spencer?"_

Reid swallowed the lump in his throat. It unnerved him that he was in some way a target, but it was even worse that they were no closer to determining if he was a surrogate for someone, or if he was who the perpetrator was after directly.

His fellow agents were still milling about his apartment with hawk like attention to details, effectively making him feel like a bug pinned by his wings. JJ thumbed a cold case he'd been digging into from back when Gideon was still on the team, _back when Gideon was still with them at all_. Hotchner was speaking with the agent from outside, going over the report that had been given to him. Rossi, naturally, was examining the recently opened scotch bottle in tremendous interest. Angela hadn't been wrong, it was very expensive. Spencer scowled and felt his stomach plunge when he remembered it had been a gift from Gideon. He had been saving it for something special, and in his foolish drunken stupor had agreed to open it last night.

The screwdriver slipped back out of the head and Reid gashed his hand on the metal. Bright red pooled from the cut on his knuckle and he winced and sucked the blood off with his lips. He'd been having trouble with his car a few days ago and had left his kit in the trunk, which meant anything useful mechanically speaking was parked in the FBI's lot back in Quantico. Hotch had offered to wait for a specialized technician to arrive. However, since bomb squad had already verified there weren't any explosives and Reid wanted his coworkers out of his personal space as soon as possible, he'd opted to go ahead and pry it open himself. Luckily, his superior had still made the call. Spencer was relieved when a man donning a real set of tools ushered him out of the way and began working on the fixture in earnest.

JJ scrunched up her nose as she read some of the markings on the dials. "What is this thing anyway? It looks like something that would be used on Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein's monster," Reid corrected unconsciously. "It's a polysine generator, used for electroconvulsive therapy on depression."

"...and schizophrenia," Hotchner crossed his arms and frowned when Reid glanced up at him in surprised. "Reid, why do you have this?"

The doctor directed his full attention to the tech's progress with the slow turning screw, trying to keep is face decidedly neutral and _not_ embarrassed, "Morgan helped me get it up here yesterday from a police auction." He breathed and continued, knowing he wasn't going to get away from the subject as easily with Agent Hotchner as he had almost managed with Derek, "I used to be afraid of them. It was something about facing my fears."

JJ blanched, "Did Morgan know about that? I'm not really sure having something like this in your house is what they mean by facing your fears, Spence. I'm not exactly fond of bees, but I don't keep a hive in my linen closet. This seems more like self punishment." She ended distantly.

Aaron nodded in agreement.

Rossi's phone interrupted the conversation and Reid gulped in the lungful of air he hadn't realized he'd been lacking. The group moved to the kitchen, away from the device. "Garcia, you're on speaker phone."

"Helll-o my magical mystery solvers! Boy do I have a piece of the puzzle for you, so I hope you're ready. We got an ID on our John Doe, who is actually Brant Myers. Thirty four year old D.C. native, was the head of accounting for a local bank branch but had financial problems himself. Looks like he was in pretty deep with the credit card companies. Single, worked out a lot, and frequented - Oh! Get this! An event called 'Catcall's Speed Dating'. Looks like he had some trouble finding Mrs. Right because he went at least once a week for _two months_."

"Could be how our unsub interacted with him," Hotch mulled.

"No better place to canvas for targets as speed dating," Rossi echoed. "Especially if our victim was making it look like his life was all that. That would have certainly drawn the attention from a jealous narcissist. And we're sure this couldn't be a woman?"

Garcia hummed negatively on the other line, "he weighted about one hundred and eighty pounds, if it was a woman, she'd have to be an Amazon to move his body."

"Or she's a regular at his gym and happens to be unusually strong," Reid noted. "Garcia, check to see if there is any connection with Angela Schaller."

"All ready on it, Wonder Boy! I'll let you know when I've got more on her too."

The technician stepped into the kitchen, waving at them to indicate he'd managed to removed the last screw.

"Thanks Garcia. Get back to us," Hotch clicked off the phone.

The team reemerged into the living room, and Reid placed a cautious hand on the front of the black box, pulling it open.

It didn't take much, the door swung wide with little effort, and what sounded like a thousand marbles clattered out onto the hard wood floor around Spencer's ankles. He first noticed the device taped to the inside of the metal and his suspicions were instantly confirmed. This was, in fact, how the unsub had transmitted the feed from last night. It didn't take long for his vision to move down to the marbles, no - not marbles - _teeth_. Reid staggered back and nearly slipped, held up only by Hotch's strong grasp around his arm.

"What the hell?" Rossi shook his head. "Are these all victims?"

"Oh my god, I hope not." JJ muttered behind her hand.

Spencer righted himself and breathed, shaking a tooth off the hem of his pant leg is revulsion. It tapped along the floor till it nestled against its ivory companions.

"Usually thirty two teeth per adult and from the mass of the inside of the box, there is roughly five hundred teeth here,"-Reid stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders-

"Fifteen...fifteen people."

.

* * *

.

Author's Notes:

Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews and support. You guys are the best! Your ongoing feedback keeps me going like Reid's secret espresso shots in his coffee.

Your opinion is important. Voice it like there ain't no tomorrow, my lovely readers!

This chapter seems to be a little slower, but it's going to heat up soon, no worries...


	6. Show Your Teeth

"Is the device off?" Hotch motioned towards the inside of the box as the technician probed the inside. He nodded and pulled away the battery with careful precision just to be certain. "Contact forensics. We need to start figuring out who these belonged to as soon as possible."

JJ snapped on a pair of gloves and squatted down, rolling over the molars immediately in front of her. "Look at this," She plucked up one of the pearly whites." There's something on the side...it looks like," -her eyebrows furrowed in confusion-" _the letter 'E'_."

Rossi squinted, "It's not written in, its etched. "

Spencer was still physically reeling, fazed by the sprawl of white bones rivaling the work of a skilled dentist around him, but his gray matter couldn't be silenced. "Etching of teeth is hardly new,"- he stated, though mostly to himself -"The Chomorro and Mayans both practiced it and also the embedding of jewels on the incisors as a form of ornamentation."

JJ slipped another one into a evidence bag, turning it over in the plastic. "Look at these edges, the carving is deep, but it's hesitant like he was just starting out. If it's a signature, it's new."

"A fine air powered dremel tool would have been used," Hotchner pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Garcia.

"Still haven't turned up anything significant on our missing lady or, well - sadly departed gentleman, sir." She began, voice cackling over static.

"This is for something else, I need you to do a search."

"Well in that case, welcome to the spring of infinite knowledge, lucky traveler. Would you like to imbibe the waters of youth?"

Hotch's lips maintained a hard line and he cut to the chase. "Can you compile a list of people who have purchased air compressors and or a dremel kit recently?."

"Absolutely, Ponce de Leon, but it's going to take a minute, so you know!"

"Let us know when you have something. Thank you."

"Your wishes fulfilled is my gift of eternal life," Penelope audibly clicked away on her keyboard and disconnected the call.

Spencer gathered himself and rolled on his own gloves out of his back pocket, "There are certain letters, not just 'E'." He knelt down and sifted through the teeth, rubbing them between his fingers till they clattered down on the floor, "B, N, T, A, H, M, U, R, I, O, Y." He shot a look around the others in the room," Looks like they're the same letters repeated."

"What's the likelihood they spell something coherent?" Rossi guffed.

Spencer pressed the back of his latexed hand to his forehead, his raw hung over mind calculating. "Beyond likely, eight out of twelve of these letters are in the top ten most common in speech and writing. They make up seventy three percent of total usage. It's at least a thousand possibilities. I need a white board." He shook his head in frustration, scanning his living room. The bones of multiple victims gleamed up from the hardwood floor like seashells on wet sand. "I can't map it out here. There's too many."

He didn't pause to analyze if he'd meant word possibilities or casualties. He moved his way closer to the generator and brushed the remaining teeth from the bottom of the box, revealing a section of a photo with each stroke. His free hand gripped the metal of the box tightly and he could feel a tremor starting in his gut.

"Well, if there was any doubt about who the target is..."

His fellow agents looked up from examining the loose bones around them.

"What do you mean?" Hotch began, stepping towards the younger agent.

Reid shifted away just slightly and Aaron looked down between the canines, incisors, and molars in the dark recess of the box.

A clear photograph of Dr. Reid, sitting in the park at one of the chess tables, was taped to the bottom of the generator, an 'X' carved across his face with the same tool width of what had been used on the teeth.

Aaron dragged Spencer up by his arm suddenly, thrusting him stumbling around the evidence on the floor towards the door. "What - _Hotch_!" The doctor protested in surprise, but his stern-faced supervisor didn't stop till he was out of the apartment.

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you, anyone who would choose you for any reason?" The older man said lowly, out of range from the guard at the door.

Reid shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no one...I don't know. I can only think of people we've already caught. " His voice pitched up higher in panic, russet eyes wide, "can someone check on my mom?"

Aaron nodded and seemed to soften at that. "It's clear he's fixated on you. He has Angela Schaller and everything that's done has been with a large amount of premeditation. What does that say about him? About his connection to you or the first victim, Brant Myers? _Profile him_."

.

* * *

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.

Forensics flooded the scene under the half hour. JJ stood by the entrance of the apartment complex, having just turned away another fuming tenant until everything could be painstakingly bagged up. It was a little past noon now, and the heat of the day was fully upon all of the agents scuttling in dark blue uniforms between FBI vehicles and the winding stairs up to the apartment.

Jennifer dabbed at the sweat on the back of her neck, her long hair having been tied up into a ponytail the instant she'd stepped outside. Even under the warmth, she shuttered at what was just above her. The teeth of multiple victims was scattered across the floor of her close friend's home. Out of all the people she knew, the one to incur the wrath of someone enough to do this...was _Spencer_? Yes, he had killed people, they all had, but it had always been out of necessity.

He was as gentle as they come.

She still recalled the day Morgan had insisted he switch to a revolver. Reid was never a good shot and the lack of knock back that type of gun had was ideal for the lanky genius. He had fumbled with the weighty metal on his hip all day, knocking it into doors his thin frame was used to brushing past or slamming his forearm into it in forgetful surprise. He'd adapted so quickly though, much faster than she would have done with a new gun. Thinking back on it, she wasn't sure why she'd been surprised. Spencer was resilient. The only thing people ever could hate him for was his brain, and that was merely out of jealousy.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she pried it out just before it could go to voice mail. "Jareau."

"Hey, we got anything on the APB for Angela Schaller yet?" Morgan's deep voice reverberated from the other end. "I'm in her apartment and it's pretty bare bones. Nothing on the walls, five romance novels, closet full of dresses and work clothes. I can't find anything that dates past two years ago in her diary. Girl's a ghost."

"Nothing yet. We got a few calls, but they were dead ends. In a city this big it's not hard to spot a petite blonde." JJ slid past several crime scene investigators carrying bags of what she guessed was oral remains and found refuge from the sun under a nearby tree. "The generator Spence got yesterday had a long distance transmitter, a candid of him, and was packed full of teeth - human teeth. We're headed back to the BAU after this for everyone to be briefed. You should meet us there in about forty five."

"_Teeth? _You've got to be kidding me," he pulled open a nearly empty desk drawer and rattled its contents around. "So Reid's the target in all of this...who is this guy?" He muttered rhetorically.

JJ hesitated, waving her hand out to the unseeing recipient on the other line."Hey, Morgan, what did Spence say about that _thing_ you helped him bring into his apartment?"

"He said he got it because of something Gideon told him, some affirmation about admitting what he's afraid of. "

"_Gideon?_ That's even worse! He shouldn't have something like that where he lives. At what point did you find this out?" She interposed.

"After I hauled that heavy ass thing up three flights of stairs. And I wasn't going to carry it back down after that anyway."

JJ scoffed in exasperation.

"What? I get where he's comin' from, Jay. I believe in facing my fears head on too. What's the big deal?"

"Yeah, but that's you, not Spencer," she forced. "You know under every simple action he takes in the field there's at least ten mental dissertations of possible outcomes and a book shelf's worth of facts that lead to his decision. He over thinks everything to the point where he can't tell when he's hurting himself through all those statistics. It's psychological torture."

Morgan was silent on the other line, huffing out a harsh breath through his nose.

"He always blames himself," she added softly, "and the last thing he needs is a constant reminder of someone who in his mind left him and he couldn't save."

Morgan paced a few steps around Angela's sparse room and ran his hand over his smooth scalp. "You're right - you're right." He sighed in admission, "I guess sometimes it's just easier to think of him...him as..."

"A kid?" JJ leaned a shoulder against coarse bark and mopped the sweatmfrom her brow, "I know. I wish he still was. I wish the things that we've seen affected him less than it does you or me. But you know he isn't a kid anymore, not after Hankel, Maeve...Gideon."

She fiddled with a new leaf branching out from the oak. "Sometimes I think he probably has the worst demons out of any of us."

.

.

* * *

Authors note:

Guys, I really really am going to be busy for a little while. I have to compile at least 40 small sized paintings for an upcoming gig.  
I will do my best to keep up on this and I have a lot worked on already, so don't worry! If my absence is cause for concern, I'm still here. Promise.

Any feedback you want to give is super welcome! Seriously, nothing is better than hearing from you! I read, check up on new followers and love everything you guys send my way.


	7. Submerged

.

.

The elevator doors to the BAU pinged opened and Reid trailed SSA Hotchner by only a shoulder.

"You'll be assigned someone to be with you at all times, and protective measures will be taken to ensure you're safety. You are required to stay away from any suspect scenes when you are not here or with the team."

"So what are you saying?" Reid started, stepping around the older man and holding up a hand before Agent Hotchner brushed past him, "Are you saying I can't go home?" He spouted out in alarm.

Hotch spoke over his shoulder as he continued, "Yes. That's precisely what I'm saying."

Reid crossed his arms over his chest defensively as a bolt of apprehension ricocheted up his spine. His fingers fretfully dug into his cardigan. "_Sir_, I can't sleep every night on the couch at the BAU. What, are you checking me into lock up at the local jail till the unsub gets caught? Do you really think I'm that incapable-"

"_Reid, enough,_" Hotchner snapped harshly, rounding back in the hallway, drawing a few nervous looks from a group of passing agents. Morgan and Garcia, who'd been having a less than appropriate exchange of words outside the elevator shot each other incredulous glances of concern. Aaron diverted the doctor by the elbow into one of the off-shooting file rooms nearby and chatter from the bullpen died out as the door shut behind them.

"This isn't ideal for you, I get it. It has nothing to do with how capable you are. _You're in danger_ and if you think for a second that I am going to permit you to further put yourself in harm's way, you are very misinformed."

Reid carded his fingers through his trimmed hair, looking down and away from his superior, "I'm very _well informed_. If he's targeted me, everyone else is in danger too. Statistically it would be best for me to act as though I was oblivious to the threat. I should continue on with my routine. _Statically_ sixty three percent of-"

"-No. I won't risk it." Hotch sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Reid could tell for the first time what a vast weight this case was on his supervisor, "You will not go anywhere alone. You will not make contact with anyone without notifying someone on staff first. And you will not be sleeping in a jail cell." The older agent paused, adjusting his sleeve cuff absentmindedly, "at least I should hope it doesn't feel that way." He looked almost sheepish, "you're staying at my place tonight and then Morgan's. Probably JJ's after that."

"No, Jack - I can't impose-"

"Jack is excited to hang out with someone who has never seen a Disney movie made in this decade. I'll limit him to putting you through only one. And he needs help with his science fair project as well...I'm guessing you can tell him why the Leaning Tower of Pisa hasn't fallen over yet."

Reid opened his mouth and raised a finger, only to have it pushed down by Hotchner.

"_Tell him, _not me. There's already a police detail outside. Spencer, please. We all need a break after today and no one on the team would sleep tonight if you were at your apartment."

The doctor gave a small smile in acceptance. "I don't mind watching two movies, if he wants. My mental anthology of relevant children's culture is definitely lacking."

His supervisor let out a succinct laugh. "I'll remember you said that." He stepped back out into the hallway, holding the door open for his subordinate. "Take a look at the geographical profile Garcia's generated and then start on the letters on the teeth. We'll be conferencing once we have the full background check on Brant Myers and Angela Schaller to work off of."

.

* * *

.

.

Reid perched cross-legged on a table top in front of a blank white board, his fingers tracing the circular bottom of a disposable coffee cup.

"A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y." He mouthed to himself, imagining the letters as clear as day on the board as they arranged themselves into different patterns. "A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y."

He started with the obvious:

Teeth. Mouth.

humane numb harm obey army bye harmony

better autonym antihero humanity abhenry I

entomb brain am anthem emity breath betray mother mean

His finger traced the bottom of the cup in endless circles. This reminded him exactly of exercises Gideon would give him when he was studying under his wing at the University, though his were always much smaller. He'd leave a set of numbers and blanks dawn out on a sheet of paper and expect the puzzle to be solved by the end of his lecture. Turns out it had been good practice after all.

"A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y,"

than bone by money habit rehab abhor urban hermit

man tombburyburn home them name amen urban human maybe imbue

humor month meat unarmmayor birth brothel throb abort yearn

buoy bane main thin thou omit retina

"A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y." He let a foot slide off the table numbly and his nerves lit up with pins and needles from the renewed blood flow.

be hint more minor beat brute _brant_ youth retain naturethrone

hornet umbonate biometry by aerobiumabnormity birthname me it or to iota tear noir tone

time ante near runt turn ruin hero rath yearn oath heir ratio outer irate

trine inter thorn metro you merit tribe orbit ornateremitentrytimernorth

ironyearthhearthatertheirheathairairyhireunto riot earnnotetoneruemobabbyhubbrominateaerobium

"Reid."

"A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y." His finger traced the circle, infinite possibilities, a sea of words he was drowning in.

"_Reid_." Somewhere, someone insisted.

"A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y." The circle he drew felt more like an infinity loop, and round he went in the waves of words undulating across his mind.

"_Reid!"_

Hands on his shoulders shook him gently, and suddenly he was no longer staring endlessly into the white board, but blinking into Morgan's wide dark eyes.

"Hey, man. You were in there pretty deep...you've been looking at this thing for four hours," He pulled the now ice cold coffee from his hands and set it on the table next to him. "We already started debriefing a little bit ago, Hotch sent me to see if you'd made any headway and get you to join us." He paused, taking in the dazed look of the doctor. "You okay?"

Reid absentmindedly thumbed over his index finger, noting a blister he'd developed from running it constantly along the bottom of the cup. "I can't figure this out. There are too many words and phrases. It's not impossible, but... _I can't figure this out_."

"Here look," Morgan stuffed a paper into Reid's hand. "Forensics was able to sort through the teeth and there are three times as many 't's and twice as many 'a's and 'e's. Does that help? Trust me, if anyone is going to do this, there's no one better than you."

Spencer scrubbed his palm across his forehead. _No one better than you_.

"A, B, E, H, I, M, N, O, R, T, U, Y...Morgan! That's it!" He inelegantly shoved past his friend as he hopped down from the table, gazing back into the blank slate in front of him.

Teeth. Mouth.

humane numb harm obey army bye harmony

**_better_** autonym antihero humanity abhenry **_I_**

entomb brain **_am_** anthem emity breath betray mother mean

bone by money habit rehab abhor urban hermit

man tombburyburn home them name amen urban human maybe imbue

humor month meat unarmmayor birth brothel throb abort yearn **_than_**

buoy bane main thin thou omit retina

be hint more minor beat brute brant youth retain naturethrone

hornet umbonate biometry by aerobiumabnormity birthname me it or to iota tear noir tone

time ante near runt turn ruin hero rath yearn oath heir ratio outer irate

trine inter thorn metro **_you_** merit tribe orbit ornateremitentrytimernorth

ironyearthhearthatertheirheathairairyhireunto riot earnnotetoneruemobabbyhubbrominateaerobium

.

"I am better than you!"

"Wow okay, ki - _Reid_. I know." Morgan shot him a sarcastically sour look. "But we need to have a chat about ego, man."

"No, no. That's it! _I am better than you_! That's what the teeth spell, that's what he's saying to me."

.

* * *

.

.

Morgan and Reid, stepped into the debriefing, finding their seats respectively rather than interrupt the conversation currently underway.

"Brant Myers promised multiple people he could secure them loans, but ultimately they were denied and they all filed for bankruptcy due to their faulty investments." Garcia clicked through a list of names on the screen."

"That would be an easy justification to take him out." Hotch reasoned.

Rossi flipped through the paper copy of the fraud victims. "Looks like they all check out, though. And even if that's the case, what's with his obsession over an FBI agent? Wouldn't he want to direct law enforcement's attention away, not _to_ his murders?"

"_I am better than you_ \- that's what the teeth spell out given the amounts of each letter in ratio to teeth. He undeniably wanted my attention."

"That's awfully bold of him, considering who he's directing that at." JJ looked over a photo from Reid's apartment, teeth strewn across the living room. "This could be someone who sees himself as your contemporary, someone with a unusually high I.Q. or the desire for one."

"That still doesn't explain the victimology, though." Rossi frowned, "Myers was average intelligence. Why did our unsub pick him out of anyone else? Everything he's done so far has been deliberate."

"He's close to the same age? Goes back to our theory about ritualistic killing of an older man." Derek considered.

"That's not it," Reid could feel when the pieces aligned in his head, "Brant Myers was a fraud. That's why the unsub cut his arms open like that to show the bones." He reeled back in revelation, eyes wide, "I'm a fraud."

The room shot him puzzled looks, taken aback.

Spencer could see his hands noticeably tremble as they motioned out in front of him with his speech, "I say I'll help people only I don't - that's the point he's trying to make." He threw a gaze around the table, beseeching confirmation from any of his coworkers, but no one would meet his eyes.

Derek shook his head, "Just because Myers had that trait doesn't mean it applies to you. That's over reaching."

"That's why he took Angela, he wants to prove that I'm incapable of saving her and that he can out do me. It makes complete sense!"

"Keep in mind for all we know, he could have just picked you out as the smartest person in the government to fixate on. There could be no connection other than just wanting the attention." Rossi, ever playing the devil's advocate, tried to steer the discussion in a different direction as Reid grew more agitated in front of them.

JJ pressed her hands together over a photo of Brant Myers, blue eyes fixed on him. "Yeah, Spence that's not tr-"

_"No!"_ His hand slammed down on the table wildly, palm tingling upon impact. "_Stop_! Don't put on kid gloves with me and soften this situation like I'm a _toddler!_ If this were about anyone else we would have accepted this as a very likely motive and have moved on to figuring out _why_ by now."

Reid felt his voice go hoarse as he registered his chair was now shoved over to his right and he was breathless, steps away from the table. His neck and face felt tight and hot and he could hear his heart thudding in his ears. "Angela Schaller missing is my fault. He wants me to know he has me beat." He didn't even remember standing up.

"_How many people_ have I said I'd save and watched die right in front of me?" He felt his form bend over slightly concave without his permission, hands casting out open palmed like arguing a plea he could win before they clutched into fists at his sides. The words seemed to pull themselves from his vocal cords on their own free will, "how many people have I called my friend and then let them get murdered?"

The room was entirely frozen from the unprecedented outburst. In the corner Garcia's hand over her mouth was catching the freely flowing moisture from her eyes, glitter from her green eye shadow glinting down her cheeks in the room's lowered lighting.

Reid let himself stumble back a step to brace his frame against the wall. "Just - _don't_ lie to me. The syntax he's used in his contact with us: "I'll be seeing you." "Are you going to be a hero, Spencer?" _"I am better than you."_ is all directed at me, no one else. The overstated show he put on in the coffee house crime scene...the only reason he killed Brant Myers _that way_ was to get the BAU's attention. And the only reason he killed _Brant Myers_ was because he saw him as a surrogate for me. A fraud."

Seconds dragged into an indeterminable amount of time as hushed breaths were drawn from the dead silence of the conference room.

Finally, SSA Hotchner nodded slowly while flipping through the file. "That's enough for tonight. I expect to see everyone at eight sharp tomorrow with fresh eyes." He remained seated as the team tried to pull themselves out of shock and stand, exiting out of the far side of the room wordlessly till just he and the doctor remained.

"Are you finished?" Hotch shut the file gently and tucked it into his briefcase.

Reid's face was thrown in shadow with sharp cheek bones catching the light from the blue screen of the projector, his arms wrapped around his midsection protectively. "Did I say something that wasn't accurate?" His voice had lost all of its previous strength and he felt suddenly faint, as though he'd just been submerged under water watching an alien version of himself in control.

Aaron checked his watch and sagged in his chair bonelessly, his head tilted back for a few seconds. "I...was on the phone with Haley when she died." He sat forward, opening his mouth with uncertainty till he made eye contact with Spencer. The younger agent's arms tightened around his ribs as Aaron spoke. "I know what it feels like to be helpless. To tell someone it's going to be okay even though it won't. To know with absolute certainty that the words out of your mouth are likely the last thing someone you love will hear."

Spencer focused on keeping his breathing even to stave off the prickling behind his eyes. He sniffed loudly as a response, rather than trust his voice to remain steady.

"You're the farthest thing from a fraud, Dr. Reid. Trust me when I say that the sooner you accept that the less hours you'll waste imagining what you could have done differently. _I know_ how easy it is to let it devour you. Maeve, Gideon. _There was nothing you could have done._"

Reid stared down at his sneakers, unable to contain a tear, but too ashamed to wipe it away.

"You asked me once how long it would take for the pain to stop. I said then that I didn't know, but I know now that it never does. It just becomes something different, something more manageable. I wish I could give you a different answer."

Reid nodded, scuffing the rubber of his sole against the commercial grade carpet.

"Lasagna is in the oven and I know for a fact you didn't eat today. Grab your to-go bag." Aaron stood and straightened his suit jacket, "I think we could both use a whiskey neat."

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Author's notes:

Ugh, I don't even know.

Looking forward to slowing it down with Hotch's apartment next chapter, I think.

Also, Hotch apparently is a fan of 'hair of the dog' if he's offering Reid alcohol after being hung over all day...


	8. The Unexpected Guest

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Reid leaned back in the passenger seat of Hotch's Sedan, relaxing for the first time that day as they wound down an entry ramp approaching the city from Quantico. Like most things, as his supervisor had explained, Aaron had been too busy to get the vehicle's a/c fixed, so rolled-down windows as they propelled across the highway pavement around Washington D.C. was the closest they were getting to cool on the hot humid night. This effectively killed any attempt at a conversation, but Reid was very certain that bothered Hotch as little as it bothered him. After his emotional outburst in front of the whole team not an hour earlier, he was past talking for a while.

The balmy air vibrated across his skin and through his hair, roaring over the mellow sound of The Beatles from the speakers. He moved his hand out the open window, using the lift and weight of his fingers to cut through the airstream up and down aerodynamically like a paper plane. It felt so strange to be a passenger outside of work. So often he was driving himself solely out of necessity or was taking the subway. It was odd yet invigorating to be able to focus away from the road he was on and just enjoy the skyline of the capitol city.

He watched the squat illuminated buildings fly by his vision almost dizzyingly, the slatted lights of parking garages, cookie cutter office buildings with patches of windows still bright with low level politicians trying to get a leg up by morning. Between some of the vertical concrete, he caught glimpses of the Washington Monument far off in the distance like beacon of ivory against the inky sky.

For a moment, it was like the last twenty four hours didn't exist. He felt strange...disconnected, like he could be anyone in any of the other passing cars taking in the shimmering lights of civilization. The road was endless before them and the biggest worries on their minds could be nothing more than running out of gas or hitting the ocean on the other side of the country. Out of all the things Reid would experience, that sense of jovial adventure would never be one of them.

He liked to think he'd surpassed any jealousy of something so simple a long time ago...after his first few cases where he'd truly seen the depravity of men he believed he had. However, in the back of his mind where he compartmentalized all the gory and horrific things: heads smashed to pancakes, glass ground into lifeless limbs, hollow eyeless sockets - his childish desire to be considered average...to lead a normal life lingered like a dark virus smudged on a blood soaked wall - dormant, yet completely over shadowed by the grisly nature of his profession.

Spencer leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes, letting the wind whip across his face. He puffed out a breath in acerbic hilarity as he recalled of all his attempts to meet the standard of normality, to care about the same things as everyone else. Penelope literally dragging him to the occasional mainstream romantic comedy proclaiming 'It doesn't have Channing in it, but I hear this one's absolutely just as laughable!' or at some upscale club plied with an offer of Morgan taking some of his paper work, only to be relegated to a corner uncomfortable and alone once the ladies caught sight of his companion. _Gideon giving him tickets to take JJ to a baseball game._ Reid sat up in his chair and pulled his hand back into the vehicle like he'd been burned, opening his eyes to see that they were exiting off to Aaron's street.

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His supervisor seemed to sigh from relief in the air conditioning as he twisted his keys in the lock. He had to admit in hindsight that despite his reservations about staying with someone else, going back to his own apartment tonight would have been altogether unpleasant. He would have likely ended up making another pot of coffee and have fallen asleep at his desk anyway.

The opening door unleashed a wave of something that smelled utterly amazing and his stomach kicked to life with a vengeance for having been ignored the entire day. Jack beamed at them and waved from the table over an open text book while Haley's sister, Jessica - Reid called to mind - set a large steaming dish on the counter.

Aaron ruffled Jack's hair fondly, "You remember Dr. Reid, Jack?" The boy nodded and he continued, "I promised him you'd pick out your favorite movie to show him, but only if it's okay that he stays here tonight. What do you think, is that a fair trade?"

Jacked nodded more vigorously. "Uhm...okay."

"See that, Spencer? I don't have to kick you to the curb after all." He shot the younger agent a good-humored smirk. "Jack, put away your books and wash up for dinner. Dr. Reid is going to help you with Mrs. Kirby's project and then movie after."

His son pouted at the notion of more homework, but snapped his book shut, pen and all, disappearing around the corner to the bathroom.

Reid realized he was still standing awkwardly by the door with his duffle bag and toed off his shoes, putting his belongings against the wall. "Thanks again for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it."

"Please, that couch in Garcia's office isn't suitable for anyone over 5 feet to sleep on. She would have locked you in there to prevent you from going home, you know." Hotch had already procured a glass of amber liquid, offering it to his guest.

Reid laughed lightly and took the drink, sipping hesitantly at the cause of his agony this morning.

"I have to go," -Jessica pulled her purse from a coat hanger- "But I almost forgot that Jack's teacher called this afternoon. Apparently he's been picking on a girl from his grade a little bit."

"_What?_" Aaron frowned for the first time since stepping through the threshold.

"Probably just has a little crush," Jessica waved dismissively, "You know boys."

"I know they're just as accountable for their behavior as anyone else." He said bracing his hands on his hips. "_Jack Roy Hotchner,_ come here please!"

Reid found it the perfect time to excuse himself to the bathroom as Hotch squatted to his son's level, a look on his face usually reserved for someone in an interrogation room. He vaguely remembered his own cheerless memories of his father disciplining him, though usually it was for not participating with other kids his age. Reid smiled weakly to himself. His father probably would have been almost pleased to hear if he'd been bullying someone. It would have made him more normal.

Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was truly a wonderful father. Reid had forgotten how different he was outside of work, though it baffled him and everyone on the team how seemingly well he could shed the terror of their work at the BAU elevator. Where Spencer's house was laden with old copies of case files and maps littered with circles around tacks, Aaron's was clean and airy, full of children's toys and movies. Maybe that helped make the difference, he considered.

He splashed his face with cool water, seeing his reflection for the first time that day. Hair was sticking up in all different directions and he doubted it had been better before the breezy car ride. Dark and blood shot eyes stared back at him full of exhaustion.

_I'll be seeing you._

The doctor shivered and knocked back the rest of his drink, grimacing against the burn in his throat till the heat turned to something more agreeable.

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Jack seemed to recover from his stern talking to relatively well, warming from down cast eyes and rosy embarrassed cheeks to maintaining a light banter with his father over which decepticon was more evil. Reid, being utterly clueless as to what a decepticon was aside from the obvious connotations of its root words, enjoyed the food and the company quietly, laughing from time to time over the child's excited hand gestures.

After dinner Reid started into the history of the Leaning Tower of Pisa for Jack, though not long after he detailed the ratio of which the tower's lean had been corrected for stability reasons, did he realize the child was staring back at him bewildered. Okay. Clearly he needed to remember to water it down a little. Jack giggled as Spencer juggled two cups from the cabinet, stacking them up and holding a string with a washer tied to the end to show how the center of gravity stayed within the tower.

Jack insisted on watching _X-men_.

The second time Spencer opened his mouth as if to say something after another ridiculous scientific explanation in the movie - only to bite down on his knuckle, he caught Aaron laughing silently and mouthing '_I'm sorry_'. He couldn't help himself but to laugh along.

Reid woke in darkness, hands grappling out blindly around him from disorientation. Orange glow from the street cut across the ceiling and trailed down the wall over a television. His hands clenched around a blanket and the back of a couch as it dawned on him he was at Hotch's. He must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie, so exhausted he hadn't even woken as his friend had shifted him to lay full length on the cushions. He would need to apologize for that in the morning, he thought faintly.

He glanced over at a picture of Aaron and Jack on the wall, Jack's small hands lifting a soccer trophy.

Was this evening what coming home to a family was like? Mostly he'd tried to avoid thinking about how different his life would be like if he'd saved...if he'd been able to stop _her_. He knew dwelling on it would slowly drive him mad, so instead he reveled in how nice tonight had been even though he'd been an unexpected guest. Aaron had been through so much as well, and yet he was so resoundingly strong and loving to his son. It spoke leagues about his supervisor's character. He thought about giving up and leaving like his former mentor had more often than he liked to admit. Then again, _look how that had turned out for him_.

Reid drifted off, only to wake a little later with a start.

He bit at his cracked lips, realizing he was very thirsty. Stumbling around unfamiliar furniture to the kitchen, he padded across the linoleum towards the sink, but he didn't make it before stepping down on something sharp. Reid recalled seeing legos earlier as he hopped on one foot in pain, groaning as quietly as possible. He bent over to wrench the toy from his sock sole, squinting in the dim light. Lego? This was an odd lego. He brought it closer to his face, only to fling it away violently, stumbling back till his lower back slammed into the counter behind him.

_Tooth_. His breath was caught in his lungs, which seemed to no longer work. It was a _tooth._

Reid fumbled for a knife from the cutting block.

Aaron_...Jack_...

He wanted to cry out but his mouth seemed paralyzed, his whole world quaking around him.

_...HOTCH..._

This couldn't be happening.

He would have heard someone break in, wouldn't he?

It was then he looked up to the hall to the bedrooms.

A dark figure stood motionless at the end of it, watching.

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Authors notes:

I said I was going to slow it down this chapter, didn't I?

My bad. :D

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As to why I'm posting a chapter so soon: Procrastination, friends. Procrastination.

Anyways, thanks to everyone that's reading, commented, faved, or followed! I really love hearing from you. You guys are the best and you keep me motivated!


	9. In the Wake of the Night

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Aaron Hotchner blinked his eyes rapidly, attempting to differentiate between the oily black of the ceiling and that of the back of his eyelids. Remnants of a dream, though not remembered, lingered like a sour tang across his teeth and he breathed deep - expelling what was a relieved breath that tonight the images didn't stick with him. The pleasant whir of the air conditioning cut out, leaving the air around him abruptly still and soundless. He squinted at the dim alarm clock.

3:55 AM flashed in and out in red digits like a dull heart beat, echoing his own thumping in his ears.

Aaron sat up, shucking the pulled up and twisted sheet off himself as he scanned the empty room. He was no stranger to waking in the night, though it was virtually always from nightmares - his or Jack's, it didn't matter. They both had them frequently. He focused on the thick silence around him in the event his son was trying to be brave and face his terror and his tears alone tonight. It wasn't the first time, and somewhere deep within him ached at the thought. His child was too young to be stoic.

There was creaking in the living room and his head snapped to the side to better hear.

Reid - _of course_.

He'd almost forgotten about his guest. It didn't surprise him that he was up since he had gone to bed - or rather - passed out quite early for their usually demanding schedules. The doctor had been so exhausted he hadn't even stirred when Aaron had pulled his curled form as horizontal as he could manage and draped a throw over him. He had looked painfully young and naive, things that he knew better to think, but couldn't help but dwell on. It was tough to cast off the previous day, but even harder to forget the wide-eyed panic that had been splayed across the genius's face so many times in less than a twenty four hour period. It was only of slight consolation that he had seemed to relax a little over dinner.

A distant clatter and blunt thud sounded from the living room again.

Aaron frowned and fumbled for the bottle of sleep aid pills on his night stand, stretching to stand from the mattress. It wouldn't do them any good to wake fully now, and while Reid had a tendency to sleep little and work too much, the Unit Chief knew he could convince the younger to take some melatonin and sleep a few more hours. God knew they both would need the extra rest for tomorrow.

He padded out into the hall way, stopping short in the kitchen at the sight of Reid's silhouette not far away. Aaron tensed immediately - at least it looked like Reid. He was unnaturally still, the only movement being the shallow rapid ebb and flow of his shoulders and ribs. He stood facing away, dinette chair knocked over to his side, looking above the back of the couch to the out of sight coffee table beyond.

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"...Reid?" Hotchner tried lowly, but the figure remained motionless. He edged closer, "...are you alright?"

Still no response.

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Aaron eased his hand to the agent's shoulder, but just as it made contact, the younger man twisted around, gasping deeply, face pinched and eyes unfocused. A left hand snaked around Hotch's throat with surprising strength, sending him reeling back into the wall with his attacker pursuing.

"R-Rei-!" He rasped, straining for air. His assailant raised his free hand, something pewter colored glinting dully in the faint light from the window. "S-Spencer!" The object came down swiftly to connect with Hotch's chest.

The bottle of melatonin fell from Aaron's grip, strewing white pills out between them on the carpet.

Reid stumbled back unexpectedly and fell, waking from his daze - kicking away from the small white capsules that littered the ground. "_No_," he stammered, "_teeth, no no no..._" His eyes suddenly widened in horror, hand still gripped around the hard object in his hand. His gaze shot up to his crumpled supervisor, who had a hand over his now freed throat and a hand over his left chest.

He'd grabbed a knife in the kitchen to fight off the dark figure from the hallway.

"Hotch? Oh god... Aaron?!" He could feel his breath coming in shorter and faster gulps, his chest constricting, "Aaron, _god please tell me you're okay!_"

Aaron wheezed, still hunched over.

"_Oh god no, please no!_"

The wheeze became a gritty snicker, "and Agent Morgan was concerned about your hand to hand," Hotchner sputtered.

Spencer looked down to the item he still grasped, confused. Rather than a knife, he was white knuckling the television remote. He let out what little air was in his lungs in a sudden whoosh, boneless and surrounded by pills. "Jesus, I thought - I'm _so sorry - _I was - I was dreaming I had a knife," he mumbled and shuttered, "I thought you were the unsub...I thought... I _killed you_." He ran his sweating hands through his hair roughly and tried to steady his breathing. "Aaron, I'm so sorry. I've put you in danger...I swear I had a knife..."

Hotch slid down the wall, settling on the floor across from his friend. "I'm thankful you didn't." He sheepishly rubbed at the quickly forming bruise over his 3rd and 4th ribs. "Have you slept walked before?"

Reid shook his head, "I should have known though, sleeping somewhere unfamiliar is known to be a factor to cause it." He picked at one of the white capsules by his thigh, rolling it over in his palm as if to confirm its true nature.

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Jack peered around the corner bleary-eyed, a plushy Darth Vader tucked under his arm. "Whas goin' on?"

"Oh buddy, it's okay," Aaron smiled sadly and braced against the wall to rise slowly. He cupped the back of his son's head gently, leading him back around the corner to his bedroom. "Dr. Reid had a bad dream like we do, I was just helping him f..."

His voice faded off and Reid could feel his rapid pulse slowing, the hammering in his ears easing up. It was so real though; everything had felt like he had been _awake_. The figure had come at him at an ghastly speed from the hallway, choking him - ripping back his head by his hair. The only visible part of his shadowy face - a perfect set of white glimmering teeth in the night. He felt the hot breath on his face, heard the deep voice echo up, "Not a hero after all,_ boy_."

Hankel. He trembled uncontrollably, suddenly very cold at the realization. It had been Hankel's voice in his dream.

Spencer felt his stomach suddenly surge up, hypersalivation building in his mouth to protect his esophagus from the acid that was soon to follow. He stumbled to his feet, sliding unsteadily across the linoleum, and barely making it in time to the sink before vomiting onto the stainless steel. He retched again, but his guts had nothing left to offer, so he could only cough painfully instead. He rinsed his mouth out from the tap and splashed cold water over his face, stifling back a sob through the liquid. His line of sight from the sink revealed the identity of the imagined tooth from his dream - a Wolverine figurine, pointy plastic claws extended, was shoved along the base boards not far. He wanted to laugh from the irony, but still felt too ill.

Hotchner flicked on the track lights and dimmed them, fished a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with ice and water from the fridge door. "Here." He slid it over the smooth marble of the counter and pulled around two stools to the island before thudding down a large stack of manila files.

Reid gulped down the water to chase away the sting of his stomach, and arched his eyebrows in puzzlement over the paper work his supervisor had already started digging though.

Aaron shrugged, opening up a file labeled 'Brant Myers', "It's safe to say neither one of us is going to be getting anymore sleep tonight."

Reid eased onto the stool next to him and nodded weakly.

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His elder slipped over a file on the coffee shop recording and the device that had been in the generator, determination dark in his eyes, "let's catch this son of a bitch."

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_Author's notes:_

I'm allllliiiiiivvveee!  
Really, I promise.

I will be out of commission for a few more weeks as my painting deadline in June is (holy $&amp;*% FAST) approaching, but I couldn't let this go with out posting _that _long. Luckily I have quite a bit of the next chapter done, so after my deadline it won't long before I have that ready.

Also I forgot to mention previously for you tumblr users I am at wakingsparrow, if you'd like.

.

Some pretty (very) dark subject matter is up next, so get ready.


	10. Sunrise

Trigger warnings of almost every kind apply from here on out. If you are easily triggered, back button it like there's no tomorrow. This chapter isn't bad yet, though.

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A trumpet was blaring in F sharp...Reid grimaced and blinked, but everything was dark. God, why was someone playing so loudly? Morgan must have somehow convinced him to go out to one if his jazz clubs again. Surely he'd learned his lesson from the other night, he thought blearily. They were on a case - weren't they - wasn't it about something important? He shuttered in a breath and could taste something gritty coat the back of his throat. Coughing in surprise earned him a sharp stab of pain that ricochet up his sternum.

His head swam and he felt like laying down. Or was he laying down already? Reid blinked again and a flicker of light started to come into focus. Something warm was dripping onto his cheek. _Please tell me it's raining, it hasn't rained in weeks_.

The trumpeter somehow persisted in playing , and in fact had surpassed the average human lung capacity's vital ability _\- 3400 cm³_ \- no one could play a note this long. Reid heard the high pitch squeal of metal rubbing together, and suddenly everything shifted, light glinting off the crystalline spider web splayed out on glass in front of him.

Not a trumpet.

Not laying down - but definitely not vertical.

Not rain.

Reid flinched as a spatter of wetness dribbled down from above again, and he gritted his teeth against the pain it took to turn his head to the source. His eyes watered from dust in the air - _talcum powder emitted from the deployment of air bags _\- his mind futilely supplied.

Someone's arm dangled only a foot away from Reid, blood running dark tracks past a watch and down the fingers.

Morgan.

He was suspended by the driver's side seat belt, left shoulder jammed in the twisted metal and small pieces of glass spiked into his face like some gory Halloween get-up. It wasn't clear if he was breathing. The side window that framed his profile was jagged with glass like a monster's mouth, gaping open into the dark sky beyond.

"Morgan?" Reid choked out weakly, surprised that his voice didn't sound like his own. "Derek , wake up."

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* * *

Sometime Earlier:

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Spencer was halfway through his fourth coffee when the rest of the team filed into the conference room. He, along with Hotch, had been up long enough to rake over all the files the senior agent had brought home. _After he'd nearly skewered his gracious host with a tv remote in his sleep._ Reid scowled and gulped a particularly large swallow of the sweet liquid down.

"Wow, have a little too much fun at the sleep over, boys?" JJ deadpanned.

"No kidding." Rossi added, easing into his seat.

Hotch caught Reid's eyes briefly, sending him weighted glance. It was true that they both looked closer to the side of terrible, and the doctor couldn't help but feel wholly responsible. Finally a case ended up being close enough for everyone to sleep at home, yet somehow he'd become the wrench in the gears for his team.

Hotchner cleared his throat, "we had some time to look over the case files this morning. Garcia, where are we with Ms. Schaller?"

The tech analysis, who's hair was adorned with fake red extensions and pulled up into braided pigtails today, twirled a pom-pomed tablet stylus between her fingers, "Not as much as our merry band would like. I did some digging though and despite her _frightening and super weird_ lack of online presence, I was able to conclude that she recently got out of a fairly serious relationship. Boyfriend-turned-ex's info has been sent -" she smacked a glitter enameled finger to her tablet, issuing a discordant twitter of alerts from the team's devices, "obviously...now. Oh! And that included her background info, but it all seems pretty normal. Normal student, normal GPA, normal home life, minus the parents being deceased as of 2008 from a boating accident, sadly."

"We also need to talk to the friend that was out with Angela Schaller at the bar." Hotch shot a pointed look to Morgan, who suddenly seemed to be taking particular interest in flattening out a crease in one of the papers in front of him. "Rossi, go talk to her and the ex-boyfriend."

If Morgan was relieved to avoid a run in with the recent fling, he did well to not show it. Reid knew his friend wasn't truly a player and if what had likely happened, had indeed happened, both parties had agreed it would be a onetime thing. He imagined that didn't make it less awkward in the long run, though.

"JJ and Morgan, toxicology and autopsy results came back on Brant Myers. Go to the coroners and take a look at the body. The more we can find out about how the unsub killed him, the better chance we have at finding Angela."

_Alive_ was implied, but it seemed no one in the room had the confidence to say it aloud.

Aaron rose and paced over towards the window, attempting -and failing- to hide a yawn from the team. "Garcia, keep tabs on Angela's cell phone in case we get any activity on it and let me know what you find about the teeth from the box and recent dremel tool purchases. I'm going to the evidence warehouse to see if they have any record of the generator being tampered with. Reid, stay here try to work on the geographical profile with what we have right now. We'll check in with you when we know more."

With that, the team filed out, bracing themselves for the harrowing warmth of another August day.

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A wave of recycled air and filmy bleach stench washed over JJ and Morgan as they escaped the blinding sun from outside and swung open the doors to the morgue. The windowless building was empty as usual, save for a balding receptionist behind a squat desk that was almost flush along the wall. JJ's heels clacked against the white tile in front of Derek, her pony tail bobbing, and she flashed her badge for only a moment.

"We were called about Brant Myers. I understand the evaluation is finished?"

"Ah yes," the man, deemed Frank C. by his crooked name tag, shoved a pair of thick glasses up his hooked nose, "yes Mister Myers. The coroner is in a meeting with another...client." Frank's face broke into what Morgan assumed was meant to be a smile.

The darker skinned agent cleared his throat, "right...well, we'll be just over here when he's done. Hopefully that's soon, as this is extremely important."

"Oh certainly!" Frank slurped in saliva around his tongue, still openly smiling. "Won't be long now, this client looked like a heart attack if you ask me. You're HIPAA compliant right? I'm sure you are. You just hold tight now Agents, you hear?" He stood and slicked his chapped lips, humming something up-beat as he rounded the corner to the examination room.

The two crowded in the corner by a dispensary of pamphlets that ranged from everything like 'Grief and You, How to Walk Hand in Hand' to 'Malpractice? Make Money!'.

JJ pulled a face and rubbed her arms in an attempt to reheat herself from the icy air conditioning, "I know it's a good thing to take pride in your job, but yikes..."

Morgan ran his finger along the top of one of the especially untouched pamphlets 'Gastrointestinal Perforation, the 38th Silent Killer', thumbing at the gray dust. "JJ, can I be honest with you?" He barely paused, intent on being so anyway, "What's the chances this woman is still alive? If he wanted to taunt Reid, he's already done that. What's to stop him from unloading dangerous cargo?"

JJ perched on the arm rest of a nearby chair and folded her hands together. "Part of the point was to make Spencer feel like he could save her, I think. Maybe that's enough reason to keep her alive?" She shook her head, "I don't know, Morgan. Right now we can't think like that."

"You hoo!" Frank startled both of them, waving them over excitedly. "The appointment's all...wrapped up as neat as a bow. The coroner will see you now...and I was right."

"Right?" Morgan wanted to bite his tongue immediately after he'd asked.

The receptionist's crook-teethed smile broadened proudly, "heart attack, I knew it was a heart attack. Love it when I'm right."

JJ clutched her arms around her lithe frame, a chill from more than just the cold.

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"You wanted to see me, Garcia? Did you find something?" Reid tapped lightly on the techie's door with one hand, the other wrapped around a regrettable sixth cup of coffee. His stomach was starting to ache from the acidity of it and he could feel the tremors starting bone deep.

"Yes - well no - JJ and Morgan did if you're going to get nitpicky. But, first, Reid - Spencer, you're okay right?"

Reid shifted awkwardly under her soft gaze and his voice came out higher that he would have liked. "Yeah, of course, totally fine." _Very convincing._ He set down his coffee on her back table and decided forgetting it there was wise.

"Because well yesterday, with the meeting, and um, now how tired you look." Garcia paused and seemed to collect herself. "Look, I know how awful and stressful and just" She waved her hands around, balling them into fists, "gut-wrenchingly terrifying feeling it to have someone targeting you and you don't why."

There was a shimmer in her eyes Reid didn't know what to do with.

She persisted in her ill planned speech, "I do, and I can't stand to think you're feeling that way right now and not try to do something about it and what if you end up in the hospital again! I just wish this was me instead of -"

"Penelope stop_. Stop_." Reid crouched down and grabbed her now only trembling hands with his own. "Not a moment passes where I am not thankful this is me and not someone else, okay? If it was you ending up in the OR again I would end up right next to you from an aneurysm from stress. Then who would make sure Morgan doesn't eat all my Jello?"

Garcia sniffed over a smile and squeezed his hands in response.

"I can handle this, I promise. Now you can help stop this guy, okay? What did JJ and Morgan tell you?" Assured she wasn't going to burst into tears, he stood and returned to his coffee, deciding more caffeine probably wasn't a bad thing at all. In lieu of alcohol, it would have to substitute as courage.

You remember that, uh well that," She hushed her tone like she was telling a secret, "That _doll case?_"

"The marionettes?"

Penelope noticeably shuttered, "_Guhh, oh God!_ I forgot there was more than one. No no, the one with the clothes and make up and tea cups?"

Reid nodded, poking at one of her various squeeze toys cautiously.

Garcia slapped his hand away in jest, "So I remembered that they were paralyzed right? JJ sent over the toxicology results and said that the coroner noticed needle marks on the hands. Aaaaand," she spun over to a secondary monitor, fingers lightning fast across her keyboard, "does Doxacurium chloride sound familiar to you or does Doxacurium chloride sound familiar to you?"

"That explains how he was able to subdue someone as strong as Brant." _Which changes the profile a little,_ Reid internally noted.

"Exactly! So why is there also vercuronium bromide in his system, and a lot of it at that, you ask? No idea! My research says it does the same thing."

Reid squinted at the report on the screen, murmuring, "Not quite. Vecuronium bromide is only used as a neuromuscular non-depolarizing blocking agent with the use of a tracheal ventilation system. It's a lot more common than doxacurium and much more potent if injected."

Garcia leveled a exaggerated glare at him. "Okay I get that and yet at the same time I feel like a don't, poobear."

"It's used in surgery with a breathing machine, without it the patient would suffocate within thirty minutes. The only time it's used without one is during lethal injection for death row inmates. This was an execution shot, he knew he was taking him to kill him."

"So you're saying either the unsub stopped somewhere along the way to subdue Brant Myers or he injected him where he was keeping him before he left, somewhere within half an hour of the cafe?"

Reid's eyes widened, surprised he hadn't worked out the timing, "yes! Garcia you're brilliant!" He snatched a purple marker from her bear mug and rushed out, bee lining for his maps.

She pouted to cover a grin from his praise. "Hey! I better get that back or I'm taking...I'm gunna take...your stapler! Then what will you do, G-man!"

.

* * *

.

"Guys, conference room." Rossi leaned by the railing, calling over the team from across the bullpen.

"Hotch not back yet?" Morgan mopped his brow with a wipe JJ had provided him. They both still smelled faintly of bleach and death, and it was bad enough he could never erase the vision of the victim's body. The wounds had been grotesque, even by his standards, and the coroner had noted Brant actually hadn't been dead when the first two cuts were made, just incapacitated.

"No, guess Narcotics had some big bust and evidence is swamped trying to catalog it." the eldest agent flipped through a file.

They reviewed the details of the autopsy, and Reid rolled out the map he'd constructed from the drug's half life. Unfortunately, the circle encompassed most of D.C.

"Well that narrow's it down," Rossi carped. "Not to mention the friend and the ex could barely give me details on Angela's behavior, let alone her whereabouts. Seems to me she was an unbelievably private person. How can you date someone for a year and not know anything about them?"

Reid clenched his hands subconsciously under the table, wincing as his nails cut into the half moons he'd left there the day before. _She had a fiancé. _The hurt came back as sharp as if it were the same moment of discovery. _How could she have had a fiancé?_ He swallowed thickly, ignoring how tightly his adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Either way," Rossi checked his watch and glanced at the dark windows, "it's getting late. We'll be useless without some rest."

Garcia's personal device suddenly chirped something the sounded suspiciously like a tardis. "Oh! Oh, looks like we got a ping off Angela's cell phone!"

Everyone in the room straightened.

"Oh, _oh no_." Garcia slouched in turn.

Morgan leaned over, staring at the tablet, and nearly snatched it from her hands, "Baby girl, _what_?"

"It went away. I only got a marker off one tower, down by Alexandria. It must have only been turned on for a minute or so."

"So no location?" JJ bemoaned.

"It's probably just a ghost ping, with one tower it would be almost impossible to locate."

The room deflated again, rapidly more wearily than before.

"Well, that settles it. I suggest everyone go home, eat, and catch a few hour of sleep till we hear back from Hotch. We'll go from there."

.

Reid dragged his mug across the surface of his desk like a zombie. As much as he wanted to sleep, a girl he had met but two days ago had somehow gotten sucked down his hole of bad luck, and any information he could put together would help. He'd hid in the bathroom for about ten minutes, hoping it gave him enough time to be left alone in the office for the night.

He was wrong.

"Nu uh, pretty boy." Morgan popped from around a corner, clasped a warm hand around the back of Spencer's neck, and steered him away from the break room coffee pot. "You have to put up with me and my gourmet DiGiorno tonight."

"I'm really fine staying here," He tried to break out of Derek's hold, but his muscular partner effortlessly pulled him to his side till he was physically ushering him back to the go-bag at his desk and consequently near-dragging him to the elevator.

Reid tried to protest, "I think someone left some Chinese from Thursday and you should know, Rossi's couch is definitely not building regulation. I'm ninety six percent certain he had a memory foam pad installed under the leather-"

"No way am I missing Clooney drooling all over you in your sleep." Derek ruffled the back of Spencer's clipped hair and firmly pressed the button to the basement.

"I thought you didn't let him on the couch?" Reid whined.

"Couch no," he laughed abruptly, pearly whites glinting from the fluorescents of the lights above. "_Guest bed is fair game, Doc._"

.

Morgan flipped on the radio and tuned it to an R and B station the doctor had unsurprisingly never listened to, tapping along to the rhythm on the steering wheel. They were coming up on the city now, lights shimmering like the last of a sunset on an ocean. The building rose like waves, till they were exiting off into the warehouse district that lead to the neighborhood of one of Morgan's renovated homes.

"I can't believe Hotch is still stuck at that evidence locker. Guy looked half asleep at 8AM." The driver frowned, turning down the music's volume.

Reid flushed hotly with guilt. "Hey," he fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper, "can you do me a favor and put away your knives if you keep them on the counter?"

Morgan side-eyed him with a disturbed look, taken for a loop by the abrupt change in topic.

"Just, uh, phobia of mine - I know it's weird." The lanky agent clarified.

"Sure, kid." He shook his head and smiled good-humoredly. "Whatever helps you sleep better."

_You have no idea._

God he was tired. He couldn't even imagine what Hotchner was feeling right now.

Reid pointed the direction of the a/c vent away from him, even though his stomach churned from the careening of the vehicle off the highway and over abundance of coffee from the day prior.

"I have to admit, this music is actually catchy." He shifted in his seat self-consciously, "Gideon always said listening to popular radio stations was like sucking your brain out through your ears."

Derek balked out a derisive laugh, "I'm sure he did. Popular media is _never_ a good way to teach someone about current social communication. Didn't he tell you to stick with opera instead for that one?"

The sarcasm in his voice was easy to detect, and Reid bristled under his insinuation, suddenly on edge again, "you obviously disagree with his judgment."

Morgan ran his hand over the back of his shaved scalp, swallowing, "Look, Reid, that isn't something we should be taking about. The team's been under way too much stress with the tooth guy. Forget I said anything."

"Really?" Reid back talked, feeling warmth in his throat rising, "because you seem to have a lot to say. Clearly he's not going to stop you - so _go ahead_."

The ex-cop's body tensed, as if wavering on the edge of giving in. "I won't speak ill of the dead. This conversation isn't one you want to handle right now." He attempted to dodge the ire from his friend's rapidly developing glower.

"_Handle right now?_ " The genius snapped, leaning forward in his seat. "At what point do you think I will be at my best to _handle it_? A year after his death? Ten? Why can't you just say what you mean, _Agent_ Morgan?" Reid childishly mocked.

His recipient flinched noticeably before quickly collecting himself. The traffic light before them shifted to yellow, and they rolled to a stop.

"Okay, _fine_," Morgan rolled back his shoulders, fanning an arm out like a shrug. His voice knocked up an octave polemically, "Because Gideon was an idol to you? A figure you projected in your head that you looked up so much to that you never looked down to the see his _flaws_? " Morgan shook his head, then looked at Spencer square in the eyes. "You still want to know my opinion about him? You want to know what I think?"

They both breathed, tension drowning out the babble of a fast food commercial on the radio between them. Reid's eyes were narrow, but he nodded once, only minutely, and looked away.

Derek ran his palms down his thighs to his knees and exhaled noisily, reeling back his temper for the sake of his friend. His tone was carefully low and his head ticked to the side as he spoke. "Gideon was selfish and he exploited your intelligence for his own benefit."

Reid felt himself go taunt, jaw clenching, but Derek reached out to grip his wrist, deep coffee eyes meeting tawny ones.

"No, you _asked_. And, kid, I am going to tell you what I've been wanting to tell you for years. Whether you want to hear it or not, I'm gunna say it."

Reid glared at him defensively for a moment, only to resolutely focus his gaze at the ridged pattern of his corduroy pants. Morgan squeezed his boney wrist just slightly.

"I think that Gideon picked you out to study your behavior. I think that he'd profiled individuals of your intelligence all over the country, and while he _obviously_ saw potential in you, initially he exploited your need for a father figure in order to use you for his own research."

Reid snatched back his hand from Morgan and tucked his arm protectively across his chest.

"Yeah, I know. You don't want to hear that. In general, Jason Gideon was a good man. He fought for what was right in an unjust world." Morgan glanced up at the now green light and pressed down the gas, shifting his eyes forward again and allaying his tone. "But you keep ignoring that he was just as imperfect as any man just so he lives up to your imagined idea. _Everyone_ on the team saw him put you in situations you weren't ready for, in part to see how you would react."

Reid stared out the window, still mute, but Morgan continued, "Yes, you learned from those times, but - and I'm going to be honest here, Reid - Gideon trying to teach you social etiquette was like a blind man telling someone who's deaf how to waltz. Wasn't the best artistic direction, okay?"

Reid's knee bounced anxiously, "he was doing what he thought was right...he was teaching me the best he could. You don't understand what he did for me." He dragged his finger nail over the valleys and peaks of his pant fabric, "I wouldn't be here."

They rolled to a stop at another red light.

"Reid," Derek sought his eyes and caught them with an intent look, "Him bringing you to the BAU was the best thing he ever did. I can promise you that. There's a chorus of voices from people you've saved that can back that up-"

"'-No, it's not that-"

And suddenly it was like the sun was rising, casting an ever brightening gold halo around Morgan's profile. He watched as his friend squinted into the light just before impact and they were lurching at a sick bearing and flipping, bits of glass blasting like rock salt and a noise so loud it was possible their ear drums were shattered.

.

* * *

.

"Morgan? Derek, wake up." He reached up and nudged Morgan's slick fingers feebly. "_Please_?"

Blood just kept dripping on his cheek.

.

* * *

Author's notes:

My medical knowledge is nonexistent! Just FYI!  
This chapter was the longest to date and is likely riddled with errors, so if you see something please let me know so I can fix it.

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Tumblr: wakingsparrow. It's mostly a Reid blog, though, so you're aware.

Please (for the love of god and all that is holy) let me know what you think!


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